It's Not Even My Birthday
by Saltwater Romance
Summary: All he ever wanted was to be left alone in peace with his sketches and his charcoal. Instead, he's sulking around, trying to woo girls while sporting a purple mohawk.
1. Prologue

**It's Not Even My Birthday... Or Is It?**  
By Saltwater Romance

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

"I don't know how else to tell you this, but my hair is purple," he stammered, staring wide-eyed into the reflection. Not that he was particularly vain about his appearance. It's just that when he allowed himself to be her guinea pig, he hadn't expected this as a result.

"Don't be ridiculous," she waved her hand, "It's silver."

He blinked. How could he delicately break the news to her that she was colorblind or missing brain cells? Maybe even both.

Ignoring him, she smiled widely and gushed, "Don't you just love this? It's very Anderson Cooper-esque! Only… Fluffier! And you're way handsomer. No contest."

She ran her fingers through his hair as his mind reeled. His hair was purple. _Purple._ **Purple**.

And on a side note, Anderson Cooper has white hair. Not silver. Either way, was she trying to make him look like an old man? He pinched the bridge of his nose. At least he could rejoice in the fact that she failed—and turned him into the spitting image of a walking talking eggplant.

And how did he even let himself get into this mess?

Her doe eyes watered as she turned to face him, "Why aren't you saying anything? Don't you like it?"

Oh. That's right. That's how. He sighed. He was rendered useless whenever she gave him that hurt expression. _Can you please watch my dog for the weekend? **I'm not going anywhere, I just don't want her to vomit all over my carpet.**_ _Can you carry me? **My feet hurt!**_ _Can I pierce your ears? **I promise it won't hurt!**_ (But it did and he ended up getting an infection). _Can you please jump off a bridge? **No reason, I just want to see you get critically injured and/or die**_.

"It's purple," he stubbornly stuck to his first opinion. Today would be day that he finally stood up to his bully! No more will those puppy eyes work on him!

"You're being silly," she laughed as if he told her the greatest joke ever, "It's silver."

"Mikan…"

"Let me blow-dry it for you, Mr. Colorblind," she grabbed the device, "For someone who can draw so well, you really can't tell your colors huh?"

It took no longer than five minutes, and sure enough, she was right. But still! Anderson Cooper has white hair, and not even she could change his mind about that!

She smiled triumphantly, "Don't you remember the color wheel? You need purple to neutralize the yellow. That's why your hair—when damp—looked purple. But it's totally silver! Now! Can I give you a Mohawk? It'll be super edgy! All the male models in Vogue have them!"

He looked at her.

And squinted his eyes to see if she was joking.

She wasn't, and she even began to make _that_ face, "Ruka… First you doubted my hair-dying skills, and now you're doubting my abilities to make you look hot? Not that you aren't cute or anything. But trust me."

He sighed and surrendered.

Well, at least tomorrow was a new day.

* * *

He gritted his teeth as he squared his shoulders and made his way into the café he frequented quite often. He self-consciously touched his sunglasses, trying his hardest not to acknowledge the gawking that followed his every movement. The campus was overpopulated with boys that always wore polo shirts and khaki shorts and shiny watches and girls in oversized shirts and nonexistent shorts and Nike sneakers that cost more than his car—seriously.

He already stood out with his charcoal smudged plain white tee-shirts and faded blue jeans; now he had this hairstyle and color that made sure that anyone who overlooked his wardrobe couldn't help but notice his oddity.

Before he even opened the door completely, he heard a loud obnoxious chortle and a hoot, "What happened to you?"

"Mikan," he muttered and clenched his hands into fists.

His friend whistled low as Ruka came to sit across from him, "Dang, you have it bad!"

"Have what bad?" he asked, even though they both already knew the answer; they had this talk one too many times.

"A crush!" Tsubasa declared and pointed his finger accusingly as if the two of them were still in grade school, "You have a big ole crush on Mikan Sakura!"

"I really don't."

It wasn't his fault that he got stupid whenever she got teary-eyed. Blame chivalry and all that. There was nothing more that he hated than damsels in distress. And man, Mikan knew how to play that like a fiddle. If only he was strong enough to resist.

"You totally do! She can literally make you do anything that she wants!" Tsubasa refuted, "Remember the time when she pierced your ear and I had to take you to the hospital because it got so infected? And remembered what happened after that? She started crying, and you ended up apologizing! **YOU**! You should've made her pay those medical bills!"

How could he forget when it happened just last weekend?

Ruka shook his head, "You don't understand."

"I do! I totally do! You're unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Mikan Insert Middle Name Here Sakura!"

Ruka arched his eyebrow, "Why are you quoting Twilight?"

"How do you know that I'm quoting Twilight?" Tsubasa defended himself as the two glared at each other.

His friend broke the staredown first with a quick shake of his head, "Mikan's in your brain man! You need to get out of this vicious cycle!"

"I don't get why you're talking so negatively about her. Isn't she your friend too?"

"She is," Tsubasa nodded his head vigorously, "But I don't like seeing her taking advantage of you! Honestly, if we weren't friends, I would probably try to beat you up right now. Because you look like a fruit cup. A complete and utter fruit cup."

Ruka self-consciously ran his fingers through those spikes and said defensively, "I like it."

His friend could only stare, "You look like a nerdy prepubescent trying to look cool. You do remember those moves I taught you last week, right? Because they might save you from getting beaten up today."

"Quit being a drama queen," Ruka rolled his eyes, "Besides, Misaki thought that I looked very… ' _bitable.'_ Her words, not mine."

Tsubasa winced, "That was low."

"Then stop talking about my friendship with Mikan and get serious. It's been ten minutes, and we haven't ordered anything! Should I get these blueberry muffins or a breakfast burrito?"

They didn't bother to look down at the menu, having been to this café for breakfast nearly every weekend for the past year. The coffee was already brought to the table without any preamble as the waitstaff was already familiar with their habits.

"Why not both?"

"I don't have enough."

"Why? Did you loan some cash to Mikan so she could go get some nail polish or something?"

"Stop," Ruka closed his eyes in frustration, "I'm not her dog. I'm not going to kill myself over her."

He heard a derisive snort.

"I mean it!"

"Just get the blueberry muffin, Ruka."

Ruka narrowed his eyes, knowing that Tsubasa diverted the subject to dismiss all of his refutes, not as an indication of defeat.

"May I take your order?" a girl approached with a blinding smile.

"Yes ma'am," Ruka glanced over at his friend and smirked, "May I have the waffles with a side of eggs?"

Point, check, and mate.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** It takes place before _Some Men are like Cockroaches_ and _Maybe One Day_. In deference to Hotaru's (and mine!) birthday month, I am hoping to finish this story by the end of October. Though I am in habit of beginning stories with no conclusions, I will strive to finish this trilogy. Perhaps along this journey, I will stumble across "my voice" instead of borrowing others' to tell narratives and increase my prowess as an author.


	2. Chapter One

**It's Not Even My Birthday... Or Is It?**  
By Saltwater Romance

* * *

 **Chapter One**

* * *

"What do I do? What do I do? _What do I dooooooo_?!" she wailed through the phone. He winced at her octave; it was like a dog whistle, but for humans.

He rubbed his eyes and groggily glanced over at his alarm clock. He groaned inwardly. This crazy girl was calling him at 4 in the morning as if he had nothing better to do besides answer her phone calls.

"Ruuuuuuka!" she wailed again, "What do I dooooo?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Sammi died!" she sniffled.

"Who's Sammi?" he went back to the comforts of his pillow and closed his eyes. Maybe she wouldn't notice him falling asleep on her.

"My best friend!" she sobbed, "Didn't I just tell you that?! She was so beautiful and majestic and larger than life! I can't believe that she just died! She's been living with me since the carnival before classes started! What do I dooooo?!"

"Cry?" he stifled a yawn.

"No! I need to bury her!" her voice somehow getting shriller, "She's in my bedroom!"

"What?!" he leapt out of bed, "Did you call 911?! What about her parents?"

"You have to help me," she begged, "I don't know if I stand here looking at her lifeless body any longer!"

"I'm on my way," he hopped on a leg, stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of sneakers that he could find, "Just stop… Crying."

"How do I just stop crying?!" Mikan shrieked, "MY BEST FRIEND JUST DIED!"

"Just breathe then," Ruka amended, "I'll be there in a couple minutes."

"Okay," her voice finally getting small, "See you soon."

"Bye."

He grabbed his car keys and drove down the road to her home. He remembered how shocked he was when he discovered that she had lived off-campus in a house; she and her roommate were both freshmen, but her roommate's older brother had graduated a year earlier and handed them his lease.

That's lucky he supposed; they received more freedom and paid less than what they would've had to if they chose to stay in a dorm. However, they lost the college experience; he wondered what he would have done without having met Tsubasa. Probably wouldn't listen to his incessant complaints about Mikan. He changed his original opinion. Maybe living off-campus straight away was the best option after all.

Her front door flew open before he made it up the steps, "I'm so happy that you're here!"

Her face was red and tear-stained as she led him into her bedroom, "Look at her!"

He looked around her room bewildered. There was no dead body anywhere, "Uh… Did you put her into your closet or something? I don't see her."

Mikan pointed wildly to a corner of her bedroom, "She's right there! Don't you see her?!"

He stared at a fish tank.

A fucking fish tank.

He woke up at 4 in the morning for a dead fish.

All he could do was stare in disbelief.

"Do you…" he struggled for words, "want me to flush her down the toilet?"

"Ruka!" she stared at him in horror, "She's my best friend! She deserves so much better than the toilet bowl! We need to bury her!"

"Right now?"

"No, when pigs start flying over the moon," her sarcasm not lost through her hysteria, "Yes right now!"

"Mikan," Ruka said as gently as he could, "It's four in the morning."

"She needs a proper burial!" Mikan insisted, "We need to get shovels and and and… I need to prepare a eulogy!"

And that's the day that he added fish undertaker to his resume.

"Sammi," Mikan sniffled, the sky just beginning to turn rosy, "I remember the day that I brought you home. I had just won you at the high striker game, and I looked you in the eye and I knew that you were the one for me. I fell in love with your orange scales and beautiful bubble-making lips. I remember how Tono dropped your bag onto the floor and how it burst open. I felt so hopeless watching you flop around, but you held on until we found you a water bottle to rescue you in. You were so strong in that moment, and I always had a belief that you were immortal. But now… But now! We will no longer be able to create new fond memories.

"I wish you all the best wherever you end up," her voice cracking, "I love you Sammi."

Ruka absently wondered about the horrors that the fish faced in her care if it had to face peril on the very day that Mikan received it.

"Ruka," Mikan nudged him, "Don't you have some kind words to say about Sammi?"

"Uh," he cleared his throat. Was she serious?

She stared at him until he shifted his weight from foot to foot, "Sammi. I didn't… Know you… Like at all, but I know that you made Mikan very happy. No one should ever… Die young. You had a lot of potential… And I guess you seemed like a cool fish. So goodbye, Sammi. I hope you make a lot of fish friends in fishy heaven."

Mikan placed a single weed on the grave before hugging Ruka, "Those were beautiful words, Ruka. Thanks for helping me with this. If you want, you can sleep in my room. I know that I woke you up really early."

"Nah it's fine," but his yawn negated his words. Before he knew it, he was ushered into her floral bedsheets and white comforter.

"Good night," Mikan smiled and turned her back to him in order to face the wall. He faced his back to her form and closed his eyes. He smiled to himself. He was sleeping in her bed with her while Tsubasa made absolutely no progress with Miasaki. And he didn't even like Mikan in that sense. He congratulated himself in his prowess with women.

"You dog," Tsubasa waggled his eyebrows as Ruka locked their front door, "Owned that walk of shame, did you?"

Ruka smiled, "Nahh."

"Tsubasa put down his mug of coffee, "Who's the lucky lady?"

Ruka shrugged and smiled enigmatically.

Tsubasa's shoulders sagged immediately, "Oh. You were with Mikan. I should've figured."

"What makes you say that?" he poured himself a mug before joining Tsubasa.

"You're desperate to make me think for even a second that you don't have feelings for Mikan," Tsubasa rolled his eyes, "Of course you would have said someone's name."

"I don't kiss and tell."

"Oh? So who were you with last night?"

Ruka arched his eyebrow at the provocation and considered his options; should he try to clear his name or should he stick to his not kissing and telling rule? He shrugged as he weighed the pros and cons. Eh why not?

"If you must know, I was with Sammi."

"Who's Sammi?"

"She's a beautiful majestic creature that's larger than life," Ruka stated with a straight face, trying his hardest not to emphasize the 'creature' bit.

"What's she look like?"

Ruka's gaze turned thoughtful, "Small and delicate, that one is. She's a rather orange individual."

Tsubasa groaned, "You're so weird. _Orange_?"

He just sipped his black coffee without a word.

"And how'd you guys meet?"

"Mikan," Ruka didn't hesitate, "Sammi's Mikan's best friend. We got to know each other real well last night; I even stayed over in her room."

A wide sincere grin, "You dog!"

Ruka nodded in agreement before slyly asking, "How's Miasaki? Heard that she was around and about those Kappas last night at their party."

Tsubasa clenched his fist, "I don't care what that girl does anymore."

"And here you are," Ruka continued sadly as if his friend hadn't spoken, " with your roommate out and at other girls' apartments and Miasaki out and at wild parties doing God knows what while you're stuck by your lonesome in this cold empty apartment. Tell me, Tsubasa… Did you cry last night? I'm sorry I didn't bring any ice cream to cheer you up."

"You're a jerk."

"Stop bothering me about Mikan, and I'll stop bothering you about Miasaki."

"Nah," a twinkle in those navy eyes, "I've never heard your backbone speak before; it's refreshing. But you got to work on your insults because really? Miasaki is nothing to me. You got to find a different tune to sing."

Ruka smiled lazily, "Nah. I'll stick to the classics."

"Then so will I."

Their eyes met and gleamed from the challenge. The last man standing wins.


End file.
